


The greatest things you'll ever know are invisible

by lifeinecstasy



Series: KageHina Shit [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Awkward Kageyama Tobio, Hiding, Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio Friendship, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, Kageyama Tobio is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mentioned Hinata Shouyou, No Plot/Plotless, Oblivious Hinata Shouyou, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, POV Kageyama Tobio, Pining, Plans For The Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28502196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeinecstasy/pseuds/lifeinecstasy
Summary: "It’s such a blood red shame that Hinata’s so thick-skulled. We would be so good together."Kageyama wants Hinata, but guess who's oblivious.- Title from "Invisible" by Zara Larsson
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio, Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: KageHina Shit [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078289
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	The greatest things you'll ever know are invisible

**Author's Note:**

> idk if this is a bit frustrating, i wanted to capture kags' frustration so i couldnt really make them kiss (╯︵╰,,)

I peek through the door of the changing room, catching the clean sheen on Hinata’s jersey as he slides it off himself. I know I shouldn’t stay, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. My eyes are glued to his body and I just know I’m going to be painfully hard by the end of this. It’s embarrassing really, the uproar that one small boy causes inside me, like someone’s splashing ice cold water all over my insides for no reason at all. 

I should leave, but my legs, the same ones that have carried me through every 5 sets on the court, my legs are deep ebony lead now, the kind that can make you feel its weight just by looking at how dark it is. It’s a wasted effort, a wasted obsession painted in way too much green and no red. Requited loved only comes after confession, there’s no skipping around to it. I know that as I brush my bangs away; they’ve been bothering me a lot lately. How am I supposed to catch every movement Hinata makes with a chunk of hair poking my eye? Granted it does shield me from his annoyingly perpetual blinding rays of sunshine, but half the time I’m only pretending to be annoyed. I don’t need the bangs, yet I’m too afraid of the blatant judgement and snide snickers that always come with me changing my hair. As if I don’t already need the world’s praise to love myself, this time there’s the additional requirement of Hinata’s approval. I can’t risk it, even if there’s a sliver of attraction that Hinata feels towards me, I have to cling to the haircut like its the edge of a cliff. Even if our relationship starts off physical, once I get my hands on him, I can press a few infinite kisses, tug at a couple heartstrings; the devil can’t stop me from making him love me in the bedroom. 

I could try climbing up the mountainous peak of moving on, starting with moving my legs right now. I could, but every nerve within me knows I won’t, sits still, relaxed in denial. So I sigh, knowing the familiar feeling of need groping up my belly as Hinata shoves his wet clothes in a shiny leather duffel, his breath making soft huffing sounds that go so well with the zip of his bag. 

I settle myself behind the doorway, far away to evade discovery but close enough to hear the soft contented grunt the tangerine lets out. I inhale. The dry cloth must feel so soothing against his skin, yet nothing can be better than my fingertips on him, touching him, drying his body with that very towel. I’m gripping the doorway for dear life as he’s doing up his zipper and the sweat pouring out my palms almost makes me loose my grip and fall face forward into the room. Thankfully, I realize that excessive sticky skin is not normal (as I had anticipated, it’s fucking Hinata, nothing is ever normal with him). My mind’s whizzing around like a rocket in my head, ricocheting off the walls so I can never complete one train of thought without another colliding right into it. 

To avoid one horrifying scenario, I make another error - removing my hand a bit too recklessly, ripping it away from the firm white paint on the wood. One motion that was anything but discreet. I can almost see the loud pop travel to Hinata across the room, curling at the base of his neck and I flinch because he’s going to turn around now. 

Somehow, I get away with it again (lady luck, I am so grateful). The orange-haired idiot was ruffling around his bag with such concentration the entire team barging in would not faze him. I could bet my life it was his bright pink water bottle he was looking for. I smiled, this was the result of two weeks of me shoving water down his throat, watching him choke on the swift intake, then berating him for not doing that himself. Those same eyes that were now focussed on the duffel bag would roll up his head and I would be forced to admit this wasn’t the safest way to make him drink more water. I made a subtle movement, weighing over to another spot on the balls of my feet when the current one began feeling numb. I would be forced to escape very soon, and knowing me, that would not be until the last minute, so every part of me needed to be alive and thriving to dash away. 

Anyway, Hinata was finally being more careful about his water consumption, only subtly though, because he’s the same as me when it comes to not revealing how much we grow off of each other. When it morphed from coming at each other’s throats to this beautiful symbiotic relationship, I will never know. I can’t even pinpoint the exact moment I looked at the bright orange puff of energy and went - Hinata boke, I fucking love you so much - in my head. I blew out a breath, how the hell does he power the halo around his head even when he’s alone? Even the air around him is vibrating with energy. Doesn’t he ever drain out? I want to see that, crave to see the dead, pained expression on his face, invent it if I have to.

It’s such a blood red shame that Hinata’s so thick-skulled. We would be so good together. 

He’s found it - the bottle - and is currently very loudly guzzling down way more water than we are supposed to drink in one go. Idiot, I clench my fists to stop them from going to grab his collar, shake him up and yell a bit. It’s the closest I can get to his face without kissing it. The sweat’s dripped down to his shoes now, which leave damp marks on the wooden floor as he leaves. The bounce of his hair makes it shine and it’s golden in the light, just like the headlights on his bicycle. I hope it doesn’t rain, he’s going to get wet, then rub his illness all over me in a clingy chain of hugs when I go to visit him because I can’t live without his face for very long at all. 

His phone rings so Hinata’s leaning toward the front door when I tear away, casting one last mournful glance at the jut of bone on his neck. I would very much like to crush it.


End file.
